


Fissures

by dreadmyquill



Series: Bend so Far [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Avengers, Angry Tony Stark, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hydra (Marvel), Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadmyquill/pseuds/dreadmyquill
Summary: A continuation of the events in Keep Bending; Don't Break. Now that Peter, Steve, and Bucky are free from HYDRA, the Avengers (led by a vengeful and protective Tony Stark) are on a mission to track down those responsible for kidnapping and experimenting upon their friends. Largely physically recovered, Peter, Steve, and Bucky are still dealing with the mental trauma that has stemmed from their time with HYDRA. Between nightmares, bouts of fury, and Peter's complete refusal to so much as look at his spider suit, the question has arisen as to if they will ever be whole again. If they weren't broken, they definitely cracked. Can those fissures ever be repaired?
Series: Bend so Far [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170767
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEADS UP! This is Part 2 and might not make much sense if you don't first read Keep Bending; Don't Break. 
> 
> If you've already read Part 1: Welcome back!! So glad you're still interested in this journey!! :D

Bucky was hardly aware of his own shivers, holding Peter close in the cold cell; using his body to cushion the kid as much as possible from the hard floor. Peter was both conscious and present for once, his eyes open and missing the usual glazed emptiness that meant his mind was completely disconnected from reality. That might have come as a relief if the kid wasn’t so miserable, shifting uncomfortably in the soldier’s arms and letting out cracked whimpers of pain. Occasionally he found his voice, the words dry and broken, stuttering for Stark or begging Bucky to make it stop, to make it better, while the man’s only option was to whisper that it would be okay. He told Peter he was strong, promised he could make it through this, when in the back of his mind the spiraling doubts insisted that the kid was broken beyond repair. It was only a matter of time before the agents came back for him, and at that point there would be nothing Bucky could do to protect him. Peter had fought hard, his spirit strong, but HYDRA had demolished it. He was malleable now; theirs to work into whatever horrifying design they chose. Bucky didn’t know if he’d survive watching the ball of energy that was Peter being formed into a mindless drone. He was all too aware of how it felt to lose one’s self to the evil organization. 

“Bucky!” 

He jolted awake to the sound of Steve’s harsh whisper, letting out a heavy breath as reality returned. He’d fallen asleep on the cold floor of the Quinjet, a balled up jacket serving as his pillow. They’d touched down in the forest after finding a clearing large enough to fit the jet. Clint had taken out a few of the surrounding pines, but had, for the most part, landed nicely in the limited space. It was the middle of the night, the jet’s interior darkened but for a few dim strip lights along the walls. The rest of the team was asleep, either reclining in the seats or curled up on the ground. The plan was to search the Ouachita Forest, near which Bucky, Peter, and Steve had been rescued from a sizable HYDRA base. They’d started there, of course, but the structure had been abandoned and stripped of useful leads. It had been two days since they’d begun scouting the rest of the woods, but Ouachita was the largest forest in Oklahoma. It was going to take some time.

“Thanks.” Bucky faced his friend, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping Avengers. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with his real hand. “Was I very loud?” 

“Not this time.” Steve looked troubled, but not especially uncomfortable. The unfortunate truth was that they’d both grown used to waking multiple times a night due to nightmares and bad memories. It had reached a point where Bucky considered it an achievement to make it through the night without screaming loudly enough to wake anyone else. He knew Steve had reached a similar place with his own troubled sleep.

“Did I wake you?” Even if he hadn’t been especially noisy, Steve’s hearing was better than most. 

“No, I volunteered for first watch.” 

Bucky had known that, but he also had a strong suspicion that Steve should have woken his relief by now. He distinctly remembered Sam volunteering for second shift. The captain had been told to wake him after two hours. “What time is it?”

Steve gave him a guilty look, knowing he was busted. “Nearly five.” 

“Yep, that sounds about right.” He picked up the jacket he’d been using as a pillow and threw it at his friend’s chest. “Lie down.” 

“I should get Sam.” 

“No, you should’ve gotten Sam hours ago. I’m up now, so just try to get a little sleep. You know Stark will want us in the air at first light.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

Bucky watched Steve lie down, draping the jacket over his head, before climbing to his feet. He stretched, muscles popping from the night spent on the hard floor, and then crept to the back of the jet where they’d installed a cramped dining area. He descended upon the coffee pot, finding it a quarter of the way full. He immediately poured the contents into a mug, not caring that it was hours old and frozen. He drank it black, trying and failing not to dwell on the memory of his nightmare. 

He understood why Steve was avoiding sleep. The flashbacks were bad enough without allowing the vulnerability of subconsciousness to take charge. It didn’t seem to matter that the Avengers had rescued them from HYDRA in the middle of November, or that they had now entered the first week of January. The nightmares were oblivious to the fact that Peter was safe at home in Queens, using what was left of his winter break to catch up on missed schoolwork. The repressed trauma was even ignoring the fact that the entire team was currently hunting the wastes of space that had imprisoned them in the first place. Bucky’s memories, and he assumed Steve’s, chose to remind him at every turn of what had been rather than allowing him to focus on what they were doing about it now. It wasn’t the slightest bit helpful. 

He hoped he would feel better once they’d successfully apprehended (or killed) those that had been responsible for the capture and torture. In a perfect world HYDRA would fall entirely, but Bucky and Steve had been fighting the organization long enough to accept that was never going to happen. There would always be another lunatic out there with a “Hail HYDRA!” on his or her lips, so the best they could hope for was finding Fields and Simmons. There were others who had escaped while the team was evacuating Bucky, Steve, and Peter from the facility where they’d been held, but those had mostly been faceless cronies who were only interested in following orders. Dalton Fields was the ringleader, and Simmons, the sadistic son of a bitch, was firmly in the man’s corner. Once those two were out of the picture, Bucky hoped the lingering fear would be able to melt away. 

He stayed up alone for another couple of hours, finishing his cold coffee and brewing a fresh pot. He’d drunk half of that one as well, remembering that he’d never stopped missing the beverage during his captivity, before he was joined by Tony. He watched the man wake, sitting up straighter in the seat where he’d passed out. He rolled his neck, frowning at the likely soreness, before making his way to the back of the jet. 

“Up for grabs?” He gestured toward the coffee pot, his voice still gravely from sleep. Bucky nodded, tightening his hands around his mug as Tony served himself. Had they been at the tower he definitely would have found an excuse to leave the room, but the jet didn’t offer many options for escape. Since the rest of the team was sleeping he couldn’t even rely on his latest method of engaging in conversation with the nearest Avenger any time Tony was near. Though the man had stopped being outwardly hostile toward him, the relationship (if it could even be called that) remained strained at best. Bucky didn’t even blame Tony for the coldly distant treatment. No matter the circumstances, no matter how little control he’d had over his own mind and actions, Bucky had murdered Howard and Maria Stark. He was the one who had made Tony an orphan. He didn’t expect forgiveness; hadn’t even forgiven himself and probably never would. 

“Ah, that’s good,” Tony sighed, swallowing a large gulp of coffee and leaning back against the counter. 

“I make it strong,” Bucky muttered, unable to come up with a better response. Tony was tolerating him because of what he had done for Peter. They were on the same page as far as eliminating any remaining threat toward the kid. None of that meant they were well equipped for small talk. 

“Good man.” Tony spoke while studying the StarkWatch on his wrist. He was certainly checking the time, debating on when to wake the rest of the team and continue the hunt, but Bucky had no doubt he was also looking in on Peter. 

Before they’d left for the mission Tony had invited Peter to the compound one final time. Despite the kid’s insistence that he hadn’t felt any significant discomfort in weeks, Tony (with Bucky and Steve hovering close behind) had dragged him to the medbay for one last checkup with Bruce. Only once the doctor had declared that Peter, aside from still being underweight, was physically safe did Tony fit him with a specialized watch that would constantly monitor his vitals and location. The device was largely indestructible, meaning Peter could sleep, shower, and bang it around as much as he wanted without causing any damage. The only surprising part was that the kid agreed to wearing the thing at all times while the Avengers were away. Tony had mentioned something about Peter hacking into various suits in the past, disabling any and all protocols that allowed his mentor to keep an eye on his activities. That didn’t seem like it was going to be a problem anymore. Peter had almost seemed relieved that someone was going to be watching over him. 

“Anything out of the ordinary?” 

“What?” Tony was distracted, studying the watch where Peter’s information must have been displayed. He was quiet for another few seconds before lowering his arm. “Oh, not really. He’s actually in REM for once. His sleep has been crap.” 

Join the club, kid. 

Bucky of course didn’t say it out loud. In fact, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Tony. At least not until he’d chugged the rest of his coffee and looked out one of the windows. Only then did he raise his voice, the sudden shout causing Bucky to jump. 

“Sun’s rising, so are you!” He followed it with a couple loud claps, resulting in the shuffling, groaning, and general complaining of the entire team. 

“Worst wakeup call ever,” Rhodey accused, glaring toward his friend. 

“Seriously,” Clint agreed, turning sideways in his seat so his legs were hanging over the armrest. “Ever heard of an alarm clock? They have snooze buttons, you know.” 

Natasha was already on her feet, and if it hadn’t been for her braid coming unraveled there would have been no indication that she’d been sleeping moments prior. “Tony’s right.” She walked to Clint, smacking his legs back to the ground and nearly causing him to tumble out of his seat in the process. “We have a job to do.” 

“But why do we have to do it so early?” Though the archer was whining, he was apparently more awake than he let on. He managed to roll onto his feet, successfully avoiding the next swat Natasha sent in his direction. 

After that there was minimal arguing as the rest of the team roused themselves for the day. There was a brief squabble around the coffee pot, and a few frustrated shouts when Bruce took longer than his allotted five minutes in the tiny shared bathroom, but they were still up in the air inside half an hour. 

It had been a long time since Bucky had shared close quarters with a large group of people, and he’d initially been uncomfortable with the near-constant bustle and chatter. It hadn’t helped that he felt directly responsible for the recent division of the team, but he was slowly getting used to the new reality. Even when the Avengers were bickering and throwing insults, they did it all with the flow of familiarity. Steve already seemed comfortable in his old role, and insisted that Bucky simply needed to find his own position within the team. Too bad that was easier said than done. 

As he’d done throughout the previous days since they’d begun actively hunting HYDRA, Bucky chose a spot beside the jet’s rear window. The rest of the team was also watching out the windows, staring down toward the seemingly endless expanse of treetops. With their lack of leads, the current plan was still to scout from above, all eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. It was a tedious task, and after a while the identical flow of green and brown below tended to blur together. Constant focus was required in order to do the job effectively.

No one was enjoying the task, but unlike Bucky the other Avengers broke up the monotony by sitting close together and chatting. The soldier listened to many of the conversations in order to occupy himself, and he’d even been politely included in several, but he could never shake the feeling that he really didn’t fit. Sure, Steve called him an Avenger, and maybe this mission technically made him a member of the team, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d been fighting many of these people not that long ago. There had been a conflict of interest, a temporary parting of ways, but Steve and the others had a history on which to rely when the time had come to make amends. Bucky didn’t have that. He remembered once, early in their captivity, assuring Peter, “No one’s still worried about that,” when the question of the previous conflict had arisen. Having just met him, and seeing his worry, Bucky had only said it to put the kid’s mind at ease and prove he and Steve weren’t his enemies. Now, back in the real world, he felt the statement wasn’t holding up as well. 

He puffed out a breath, letting his lips flutter in a brief, annoying helicopter sound. He rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. If anything, he should follow Tony’s example. The man had put his personal discomforts and hang ups indefinitely on the back burner. There was a mission to be done, and he had welcomed anyone who was willing or able to come. That’s how their current group wound up consisting of Bucky, Steve, Tony, Rhodey, Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Bruce. Wanda and Vision had gone off the radar together, T’Challa was busy in Wakanda, Strange was dealing with a “crisis in the Sanctum” (whatever that meant), Thor had been called to Asgard, and Scott was busy with his family. The only other option had been Peter, who was both forbidden and unwilling to join them. According to Tony, the kid still hadn’t so much as touched his spider suit since their rescue; not even to tinker with its mechanics in the lab. 

Bucky reminded himself that Peter was really the reason for all this anyway. Anything HYDRA related was worth chasing, but the kid was what had made it deeply personal. Capturing and experimenting on trained adults was unforgivable, but doing it to a child was heinous beyond words. Thinking of that always caused a deep anger to boil in his chest, and Bucky held onto that. He didn’t have to make friends. He didn’t have to feel at ease among the Avengers. He just had to do the job, and that was something he was good at.

___

Eve had another headache. It wasn’t debilitating; just annoying. She’d grown almost used to the dull throb behind her eyes. She drew her hand over the four-inch bald spot on the back of her skull. A thin layer of prickly fuzz had begun to regrow and she found it difficult not to keep touching it. She might have been concerned about how the shorn patch made her look if there had been any certainty in her future. As it was, she hadn’t so much as seen her own reflection in over a month. Maybe longer. 

After she had initially been captured by the Avengers, scrambling lost through that forest in Tennessee, she hadn’t expected to be kept alive very long. Tony Stark had interrogated her first, pacing, shouting, and punching the wall beside her head. She’d been honest with him, trembling at his anger and telling him the little she knew of HYDRA’s plans; not that she’d had much knowledge to share. 

She had only seen Stark that first day, and the questions that continued over the following week or so had been less intense. She hadn’t been harmed, and someone had even been in to wrap her injured hand, but that hadn’t stopped the rush of fear that flowed through her the first time the red-haired woman had entered her cell. Eve recognized the Black Widow from various media coverage. The woman’s reputation painted her as violent and unforgiving, so Eve was relieved when she was merely pressed for information in a calm but firm voice. She made herself as cooperative as possible, telling the assassin everything she knew without hesitation. She’d even agreed pretty readily to surgery after being informed they needed the chip in her brain. She counted herself lucky upon learning they were waiting for a trained neurosurgeon to perform the procedure. 

Her last truly frightening encounter had been about a day before the operation. Steve Rogers had entered her cell, staring at her with a chilling expression that she’d never once seen throughout his capture. He looked dangerous, digging his fingers into fists and refusing to answer any of her stuttered questions. It felt like an eternity before he finally let out a frustrated breath of air and left the room. By that point Eve’s heart had been hammering in her throat. She’d been certain he was going to kill her. 

She hadn’t been threatened again since that encounter. The surgery happened, leaving her with the frequent headaches, but the Avengers hadn’t tortured her or caused any unnecessary discomfort. After the operation she had even awakened in a nicer cell, complete with a comfortable bed and plenty of pain medication. It was hard to say how much time had passed since then, but it had been enough for her strength to return and for the incision point to stop hurting. She’d also been able to get off the pain meds. The only true problem, besides being held prisoner, had become boredom. She no longer believed her life was in danger (at least not much), but she also spent her time in solitude. Being alone with her own thoughts was slowly becoming maddening. 

Her new cell was pleasant enough, all things considered, but nothing took the place of human interaction. The room had no window, but was spacious enough to move around and stretch her muscles. She had a bed with a soft mattress, decent pillows, and thick blankets, a shower with soap and shampoo, a toilet, a stocked bookshelf, and even a cushy armchair. Three times a day a small slot opened in the solid door, and a robotic arm took away her old dishes before serving what was always a decent meal. Once in a while, the arm even gifted her small means of entertainment. So far she had collected a coloring book and pencils, a deck of playing cards, a Rubik’s cube, and a portable DVD player with three movies. Twice a week she got a clean set of clothes. It was all more than she expected, and more than she probably deserved, but she was still achingly lonely. The only thing that changed that was when Peter visited. 

The boy didn’t show up frequently, but it happened. Eve was still trying to figure out why he chose to come. She got the impression, from his stiff and jumpy demeanor, that his visits were happening in secret. He wanted something, was possibly searching for some sort of answer, but Eve didn’t know what it was. The more times Peter showed up in her cell, the more she began to suspect that he didn’t know what he was seeking anymore than she did.

The first time he’d come he’d looked incredibly nervous. He’d been thin as a rail, shaky, and had a sweaty pinkness to his cheeks that suggested illness. He’d stood by the door, staring at her for an uncomfortably long time before speaking a single word. “Why?” 

She’d started with some lame attempt at an apology, understanding that nothing she said could ever undo what had happened to him. She hadn’t enjoyed participating in what was done to Rogers and Barnes, but at least they were grown. They were trained soldiers who knew how ugly the world could be. It was Peter who lingered in her mind. His young age, the desperate terror in his eyes, and the sound of his cries of pain still kept her up at night. She wasn’t able to tell him any of that, because the moment the, “Sorry,” left her lips he lost his confidence and practically threw himself out of the room. Eve hadn’t expected to see him again after that, but he’d already returned four more times. 

She didn’t comment on it, but was pleased that the boy looked a little healthier each time she saw him. He remained thin, and his brown eyes held a haunted look that made her reel with guilt, but it was also clear he’d done a good deal of healing. It felt like he stayed a bit longer each visit, going as far as to sit down in her armchair during their most recent conversation. He was always guarded and short with her. Sometimes he railed, calling her names, cursing HYDRA, and reminding her of her crimes. Other times he was calm, asking questions that he actually gave her time to answer. She didn’t mind either way. Even having him shout at her had become better than being alone. 

At his insistence, she had explained to Peter a little about how she’d gotten mixed up with HYDRA in the first place. It wasn’t an excuse, and she knew it made her no less responsible for the role she’d played within the organization, but she honestly hadn’t realized the extent of what she was getting into before it was too late. First and foremost she was a scientist. Ever since college she had been fascinated by Howard Stark’s success with the serum that had changed Steve Rogers into such a powerful force. Upon furthering her research she had learned all she was able about HYDRA’s attempted replica. There was a much smaller supply of documentation concerning the organization and the Winter Soldier, and she’d spent years conducting interviews and jumping from person to person before finally finding an in with HYDRA. At that point she had readily sworn her loyalty to them without pausing to consider potential negative consequences. She was fascinated by the science of it all, anxious to find answers to her longtime questions, and excited to work with fellow like-minded scholars. 

Even though Peter scowled at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed with her explanation, she had made sure to emphasize that she’d never wanted to see him in pain. She had told him as much before he’d been rescued, and though he’d probably never believe it, she had always liked him. She thought he was funny and smart, even when he’d been spouting his insults during the start of his captivity, and watching him suffer and break down over time had been crushing for her. She didn’t know if he’d noticed, but she’d always tried to be as patient and gentle with him as HYDRA allowed. She’d done the same for Rogers and Barnes. She’d been naïve in joining the organization, and she’d been disgusted by her own cowardice after leaving Peter and the soldiers in the woods to be recaptured, but she wasn’t sadistic. She had no interest in kidnappings, torture, and building armies, but by the time she’d realized that was part of the deal it had been too late to say anything besides, “Hail HYDRA!” At least not if she wanted to live.

She was sitting on the hard floor (for the sake of variety more than anything), using her colored pencils to shade in a picture of a detailed, geometric butterfly when Peter arrived for the fifth time. The sound of the door sliding open startled her, it happened so seldom, but she couldn’t stop the smile that sprang to her lips the moment she saw the boy standing there. He was glowering at her, as usual, as he quickly stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind him. There was a small keypad on the inside of the door that enabled him to make his exits. If Eve’s suspicions were correct, that Peter truly was coming to her in secret, she had no idea how he’d gotten the code. She was smart enough not to ask him. 

“Hi, Peter.” 

“Hi.” She noted that he didn’t tag an insulting nickname onto the end of the greeting as he so often did. Maybe he was in one of his better moods.

He stood there, stiff, picking at the band of the watch around his wrist. Eve waited, letting him take his time. Their meetings usually started this way. It always seemed like he was trying to talk himself out of the visit, and maybe he was. He eventually found his words again. “Did you know me? Before? Did you know Spider Man?” 

Ah, straight to it then. “As part of my research I studied the habits of Spider Man extensively. It took longer to learn who was behind the mask. I remember being impressed.” 

“So you knew.” 

“Knew what?” 

“You knew what Spider Man was doing for Queens.” 

“I knew. You spent all of your spare time putting yourself in danger in an effort to make your neighborhood a safer place. I think it was very brave and noble.” 

Peter let out an angry snort. “Right.” 

“You don’t believe me?” Eve made sure her voice was calm. She wasn’t looking for a harsh confrontation. “I watched you do amazing things as Spider Man. There’s no shortage of evidence on the internet.” 

“So you thought Spider Man was important?” 

“It certainly seemed so.” 

“Bullshit.” He spat the word without raising his voice. So much for his better mood. 

“What part of that is bullshit?” 

He finally stepped a little further into the room, snatching a green pencil off the floor and beginning to twirl it in his fingers as he spoke. “If you cared at all about what Spider Man was doing for Queens, you wouldn’t have done what you did.” 

“I thought I explained the kidnapping was not my idea. I didn’t have a say in that.” 

“And you fought really hard to stop it.” His glare was poison. 

“We’ve already talked about my role in things. You’ve made it clear that you hate me, and for that I don’t blame you. I don’t believe you’re here to go over that again.” 

His face developed an angry flush, and he suddenly threw the pencil at the wall behind her where it shattered immediately into splinters. “You took Spider Man away.” 

“I know.” 

“You don’t!” 

That confused her. Was he shaking? “Peter?” 

He looked at her, followed her gaze to his trembling hands, and let out a slow breath. He crossed his arms to hide the shaking. He seemed calmer when he next spoke, but his eyes were no less upset. “I guess you don’t watch the news in here?” 

“No. I don’t have that privilege.” 

“Queens is a disaster. Crime is rampant. One of my teachers got mugged yesterday.”

“Is your teacher okay?” 

“She will be. She had to spend a night in the hospital, but that’s not really my point.” 

“I’m sorry about your teacher. What is your point?” 

The glare was back. “It probably wouldn’t have happened at all if Spider Man was around.” 

Eve hesitated, the silence feeling heavy. Peter had gone quiet. She finally said what she wanted to, feeling like she was missing something important. “But Spider Man is back.” 

She watched his eyes go huge in disbelief and realized immediately she had said the wrong thing. “You think Spider Man is back?” 

“But...aren’t you?” 

“Peter’s back. I think you and your friends might have killed Spider Man.” 

Oh. 

That made so much sense that she was embarrassed to have overlooked it. After everything he’d been through because of his mutation, Peter felt he had lost the part of himself that allowed him to go out as the vigilante. She couldn’t imagine how devastating that must have been. She said the words she’d long since tired out. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah.” 

Having said what he needed, the fight seemed to leave him. He actually looked exhausted. Eve expected him to depart, and was pleased when he instead slumped into her armchair. The genuine guilt building inside her was squeezing at her heart. She hated herself for the part she’d played in breaking down the child before her, and yet she was still selfishly happy for the company. She didn’t know what Peter was gaining from their conversations, but she hoped they were helping him somehow. He kept coming back, so there must have been a reason for that. 

Another silence had fallen, so she scooted toward her bookshelf and grabbed the deck of playing cards. She held them up. “Want to play Go Fish?” She was mostly joking. She and Peter talked. They didn’t play games.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you being serious?” 

“I can be.” 

There was another long pause. He was staring at her, but most of the malice had been stripped from the expression. He just looked so young and tired. When he finally spoke, it was with a shrug. “Okay.” 

Eve grinned as she dealt the cards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys seem as interested in part 2 as I am! Hope you like this one!

Bucky picked his way between trees and through the overgrown brush, grateful for the training that enabled him to move quietly, as well as for the enhanced eyesight that allowed him to watch his footing under the cover of night. He readjusted his grip around the rifle in his hands, glancing to his right where Natasha was moving as silently as a cat. He was aware that the other Avengers (with the exception of Bruce who was waiting back on the jet but was prepared to join them if the situation developed into a “Code Green”) were hidden among the trees, completely surrounding the small clearing that an apparently eagle-eyed Rhodey had spotted earlier in the day. The break in the trees had been just wide enough to hold two expensive-looking black tents. There was no knowing if they housed escaped HYDRA agents, but the existence of regular campers this deep in the woods was slim. Clint had found room to bring the jet down just over a mile away from the clearing, and once on the ground they had decided to wait until nightfall to investigate. 

That time had come, and after splitting up and traveling through the darkness, the Avengers had finally broken into the clearing. They silently encircled the tents, doing so without giving any indication of their presence. Bucky had been expecting some sort of resistance, be it an ambush, a screeching alarm, or at the very least one of the agents sitting up and keeping lookout. It was unlike HYDRA to be taken by surprise, and the soldier had begun to fear they were wasting time with a false lead until Tony, Iron Man suit donned, ordered them over the comms to ambush the tents. The following kerfuffle was brief. There were shouts, a smattering of un-aimed gunfire, and two piles of collapsed canvas before four HYDRA agents were disarmed and pulled into the circle of Avengers. A beam of light came suddenly from Tony’s chestplate, illuminating the squinting figures in a brilliant glow. 

All four of the agents looked like they had seen better days. They were dirty, scrawny, exhausted, and exhibiting a number of non life-threatening injuries. Bucky bristled when he realized he recognized two of them. He first saw Simmons, his black mustache overgrown and merging itself with a messy beard that hadn’t been there before. His eyes were as mean, and his sneer as ugly, as ever. The other familiar man was the bathroom guard whom Bucky, Steve, and Peter had nicknamed Flush. The guy had been slightly more patient than his partner, but that wasn’t very high praise. 

The longer he looked at those who had caused so much hurt, the closer Bucky’s rage, simmering at first, drew to the boiling point. No shortage of demanding questions and spitting insults had clawed their way to the tip of his tongue, and Bucky was preparing to give in and unleash them when Steve beat him to it. Captain America entered the circle with purpose, falling upon Simmons and knocking the man flat on his back. He pinned him there with the edge of his shield against his throat. “Where’s Fields?” It came out a snarl, and Bucky was somewhat startled to realize that his friend’s violent, almost brutal demeanor didn’t come as a surprise. It definitely would have before the capture, but Steve was different now.

“Steve,” Sam warned, taking one step toward the captain. “This isn’t how we do things.” 

“Listen to your handler,” Simmons said, having the gall to actually smirk up at the wall of muscle towering over him. 

“I’d answer the question,” Tony said, lowering his faceplate. “Or have you forgotten what happened the last time we occupied the same space?” He raised one gauntlet warningly. 

“We don’t know!” a small woman with short dark hair squeaked when Simmons remained silent. Bucky didn’t recognize her, but she had HYDRA’s emblem on her sleeve. “Evac left without us. None of us know where they were going.” 

“You seem pretty wilderness ready for being left behind,” Natasha said, gesturing toward the collapsed tents. 

“HYDRA has emergency packs stashed around most of its bases,” Flush spoke up for the first time. 

“Shut up!” Simmons hissed, glaring at his companions from where he remained on his back. 

“Oh, I get it,” Tony said, his voice mocking. “It was okay to leave your boss for dead when you thought I was going to blow a hole through you, but now that you’ve got an audience you’re loyal as can be.” 

“Screw you, Stark! If you think Professor Fucking Fields was in charge of this then your head’s even further up your iron-plated ass than I thought.”

“Titanium,” Tony corrected, giving no indication that he was at all bothered by the information Simmons had just divulged. Bucky, on the other hand, felt his mouth fall open at the news. It had never occurred to him that the kidnapping and experimentation went above the agents they had met during their captivity. If Fields hadn’t been running the operation, then who was? Just how far up HYDRA’s evil ladder did this go? 

“Act as smug as you want,” Simmons said. “But you’ve got nothing. If HYDRA was planning on getting us out of here, they would have done it by now. Consider us a necessary sacrifice.” The last word was cut off with a choke as Steve pressed the edge of his shield tighter against Simmons’ windpipe. The man could still breathe, but it was definitely uncomfortable. 

“You know something,” Steve growled. 

“Maybe I do,” his voice was raspy. “But you’ll never find out.” 

“Never say never,” Natasha said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were dangerous. Most people knew the rumors about the Black Widow. When it came to being on the receiving end of an interrogation, she wasn’t the one you wanted in the room. Simmons seemed to know that, because he paled slightly at the words even though he stubbornly clenched his jaw at the same time. 

“Let’s go,” Tony said, suddenly in a hurry. “The sooner we get back to headquarters, the sooner we can end this altogether.” 

Bucky was most certainly in favor of that. He was slowly getting used to Tony’s method of casual jokes and banter when internally he must have been freaking out. Peter did the same thing. That’s how he knew that the newfound possibility of this being a bigger job than they previously realized was bothering Tony a lot more than he let on. A part of Bucky wanted to torture the informormation out of the agents right then and there, but he knew they had a better chance of getting what they wanted if they took the time to do things properly. Getting Simmons and the others back to the compound, and then alone with Natasha, was the best chance they had of achieving what they wanted.

None of the Avengers argued with Tony’s direction, and before long they had marched the agents back through the woods and onto the jet. They were handcuffed, gagged, and sat on the floor near the back where they would be constantly monitored during the return flight to New York. They were unarmed, and weak enough from surviving in the woods for weeks that the entire abduction went off without a hitch. Bucky took a seat, glaring at Simmons as Clint lifted off and headed for home. He wanted to believe their nightmare was almost over, but a buried, unhappy part of his mind told him they were only at the beginning. 

___

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

May’s voice was gentle, almost tentative, when she asked the question, but Peter just shook his head where it rested in her lap. It was early Monday morning, just after six, and May had returned home from a graveyard shift to find Peter wide awake on the couch. He’d turned on every light in the apartment and gone to the living room to watch TV after gasping awake at around eleven. He hadn’t even been able to remember what the nightmare had been about, but it scared him enough to leave him shivering and drenched in sweat. It hadn’t been his intention to wait up for his aunt, but he’d lost track of time watching the shopping channel. At least that’s what was muted in the background now. He wasn’t sure he had actually processed anything on the screen the entire night. 

To May’s knowledge, Peter was still dealing with the aftermath of being hit by a car in South Korea. Mr. Stark had even made him sit through a PowerPoint showing off the highlights of Seoul. For better or worse, Peter had become a pro at lying to his only living relative. That being the case, May could still always tell when her nephew was stressed, hurt, or not sleeping. After walking in the door and sliding off her shoes, she’d only needed to take one look at his bloodshot eyes before muting the television and sinking down beside him on the sofa. It hadn’t taken her long to coax him into lying down, head in her lap, as she began working her fingers through his curls. They’d stayed like that for nearly twenty minutes before she’d spoken, and Peter could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she searched for the best way to approach him again. 

“Did you sleep at all?” 

“Some.” The word came out gravely after a night of silence, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“Are you in pain? I know your arm…” 

“My arm’s fine.” He cut her off, and his words were mostly true. Once in a while the fingers on his right hand would ache, go numb, or freeze up on him, but it never lasted long. 

“Okay,” May sighed, seemingly able to tell that further questions would get her nowhere. “Will you at least stay home today and try to catch up on some sleep? We can even make a day of it and go out for lunch later.” 

That was temping; way more tempting than slogging through another day at Midtown, but staying home also meant May tucking him back into bed. He felt safe with his face pressed against her warm legs and with her fingernails running circles across his scalp, but he couldn’t stay like that all day. May needed rest after her long shift, and Peter couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again in his bedroom. He’d already caught up on his missed schoolwork, but May didn’t need to know that. 

“Wish I could, but I’ve already missed too much. Dinner date instead?” He hoped suggesting dinner would take the sting out of his refusal. 

“Sure. Just promise me you’ll call it an early night.” 

“Promise,” he said, sitting up and stretching. “I’ve gotta get dressed or I’m gonna be late.” He started to rise, but May stopped him, gripping his chin and making him hold eye contact. She was frowning, and he suddenly regretted turning on so many lights as she took him in. One of her thumbs gently traced the bags beneath his eyes. 

“You’d tell me if there was anything I could do to help you, right?” He hated how sad she looked. 

“Of course. You help me all the time. Every day.” 

“I’m worried about you.” 

He leaned back, out of her grip, and plastered a smile onto his face. “I’m fine, May. Really. But I do need to get going. Mr. Jeffers in homeroom is not kind to the perpetually tardy.” That made her snicker a little, and Peter was glad of it as he hurried to his bedroom. He glanced at his StarkWatch, remembering that he already had three Avengers ready and waiting if he so much as got a splinter. The last thing he needed was May worrying herself sick over him too. Not that he’d ever been able to stop her. 

He changed quickly from his pajamas to jeans, two pairs of socks, a long-sleeved T, and a heavy sweatshirt (because crummy thermoregulation and New York in January were a bad mix) before skidding into the kitchen. May was already there, pouring steaming hot chocolate into a travel thermos. Gosh he loved that woman. She spoke again as he began pulling on his tennis shoes from where he had previously kicked them under the table. “Will you let me drive you? The crime rates have been out of control lately and I don’t like the idea of you on the streets.” 

Peter had to chew on his tongue to keep from wincing at that, knowing exactly whose fault it was that Queens was becoming such a disaster. “I’ll be fine. We’d never make it in time with morning traffic.” 

May looked uncomfortable, but Peter didn’t give her time to keep arguing. He threw a couple protein bars into the pocket of his sweatshirt before tugging on his winter coat and pulling his backpack over his shoulders. He grinned when May extended the cocoa. “Thanks! You’re the best! Be thinking about where to go for dinner later.” 

She followed him to the door. “Watch out for cars.” It was said with a smile, but Peter knew she was only half-joking. 

“Will do.” 

“I love you, Peter.” 

“Love you too.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before finally leaving the apartment. 

He was grateful for his extra layers upon reaching the street and realizing how cold the morning was. That made it easy to blame his sudden trembling on the weather. He didn’t have an excuse for his sudden shortness of breath and racing heartbeat, but chose not to let himself dwell on the fact that this was the exact route he’d been taking when HYDRA had initially kidnapped him. He was safe now. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have let him out of his sight if he’d thought anyone would be coming for him again. That knowledge helped, but it didn’t stop him from speed-walking past every alley until he was in front of his school. 

He tried to ignore the distant sound of sirens as he entered the building. He still felt the pressing responsibility of keeping his borough safe, but even the thought of assuming his alter ego was now enough to send him into a near panic. It’s not like he was carrying his suit anyway. The police could handle it, and even if they couldn’t he wasn’t going to be the one to help them out. Not anymore. He swallowed a lump in his throat and left the streets behind, instead making his way to his locker. High school he could do. 

“Hey, penis!” 

Peter jumped half a foot, messing up his combination as Flash suddenly banged his fist against the locker near his head. He was already on edge, and the clang of metal sent a spike of pain through his head before it came to rest in his back teeth. Ever since HYDRA’s experiments, his senses had been on a hair trigger. It took an exhausting amount of focus to keep the overloads at bay, and the breakfast burrito he could smell on his bully’s breath wasn’t making that task any easier. He closed his eyes just long enough to draw in a steadying breath through his mouth before again spinning the dial on his locker. He kept his voice casual as he spoke. “What do you want, Flash?” 

“Just wondering if you were planning on attending Wednesday’s decathlon meet. I did great filling in for you at the last few.” 

“Yeah? M.J. told me you nearly blew it on the second-to-last question last time. I thought Ned bailed you out.” He finished stashing his belongings and grabbing the books he needed before gently closing the metal door. There were enough lockers slamming in the hallways without adding to it. 

Flash scoffed and crossed his arms. “That’s a load of bull. Leeds wishes he could know an answer I don’t.” 

“Whatever.” Peter muscled past him, heading to his first class. 

“Does that mean you’re coming on Wednesday?” Flash called after him. 

“I’ll be there.” It felt satisfying to disappoint the jerk. Moments later Peter was finding his seat in Mr. Jeffers’ English class. He had barely sat down when he felt a slight buzzing against his wrist. His watch was displaying a typed message from Mr. Stark. 

_ Dip in your blood sugar. Breakfast?  _

Peter snorted, half-annoyed and half-grateful for the hovering. He pulled one of the protein bars from his pocket and unwrapped it. He took a massive bite before punching out a reply.  _ Was running late for school. Eating now.  _

_ Figured you’d have more time to get ready. Not like you slept in… _

Peter rolled his eyes.  _ Stalker _ . 

_ Deal with it.  _

He was planning on composing a snippy reply, but the bell rang and his teacher entered the classroom. The last thing he wanted was to get his watch confiscated, so he crammed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, washed it down with a swig of May’s hot chocolate, and pulled out his copy of  _ The Grapes of Wrath _ , a.k.a.: The world’s most depressing family road trip. 

The rest of the morning passed more or less uneventfully. He was tired, but at this point that was nothing new. He took notes and rubbed his eyes to keep himself alert. He didn’t even really have any friends in his early classes, so it wasn’t until lunch that Ned and M.J. plunked down on either side of him. 

“Yes, you got fries!” M.J. swiped a couple off his tray, totally ignoring the hummus and pepper sandwich she had packed. 

“No, please, help yourself.” He was complaining, but it was said with a grin. 

She responded by taking a bite out of his chocolate chip cookie. “I always do.” 

“You never share your cookies with me.” Ned pretended to pout while popping open a can of Coke. He slid the beverage in front of Peter. “Looks like you need the caffeine.” 

“Thanks.” He knew he’d reached a level of tired that only a night of uninterrupted sleep would cure, but he drank the soda anyway. Ned was one of the few people who knew the truth about what had happened to Peter, and though he’d spared his friend the details about the torture and how bad off he’d actually been, it couldn’t have been more obvious that Ned remained concerned. He just hoped he wasn’t becoming too much of a strain on the people he cared about. He desperately wanted to be back to normal, for his loved ones and himself, but he knew he wasn’t even close. 

“Hey.” M.J. tapped a finger against the side of his head, and he realized he’d zoned out. “You okay?” 

“What? Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m good.” He picked up his slice of pizza and took a bite. His appetite was still wonky, and he didn’t really feel hungry, but the chewing seemed like a good use for his mouth. It was better than continuing to stammer at the girl he’d started to like at any rate. There was also the fact that if he didn’t eat he’d shake, feel nauseous, raise questions, and likely get another scolding text from his mentor. It was easier just to swallow down his lunch. He was too skinny anyway; a fact that Flash had no problem drawing attention to in the locker room. At least his weight took the attention away from his scars. He only had a handful, and they weren’t awful, but they remained noticeable to anyone who was paying attention. 

“Gotta be honest, Peter. You’ve been more of a loser than usual since you almost died.” 

He swallowed his bite. “I didn’t almost die. I got skimmed by a fender. That’s all.” That was the story. 

“Fender beats flesh and bone. Look it up.” 

“I’m fine.” 

She ate another fry, studying him with her big eyes. “Physically, maybe.” Damn. She was too observant for anyone’s good. Peter was relieved when his watch vibrated again, giving him an excuse to break her gaze. 

_ Back at compound. Come over tonight?  _

His stomach plummeted. What did that mean for the mission? Had they found Fields?  _ Can’t tonight. Dinner with May. Everything good?  _

The reply was prompt.  _ Avengers business under control. Don’t want you giving it a thought. I just miss you. Think your super soldiers do too. _

Really?  _ His _ super soldiers? Peter could almost hear the teasing in Mr. Stark’s voice. He did miss Steve and Bucky. They’d lived (and suffered) together long enough for it to feel weird when they weren’t around. That didn’t mean he was going to let his mentor get away with the ribbing.  _ You’re never as funny as you think you are. _

_ I’m hysterical. Don’t know why everyone always argues with me about that.  _

_ I could probably shed some insight.  _

_ Ouch. Hit a guy where it hurts. Come over tomorrow?  _

_ Sure.  _

_ I’ll send a car after school.  _

_ Great!  _

“Back with us?” M.J. sounded annoyed, and Peter looked up to realize both she and Ned were staring at him. Whoops. 

“Sorry. It was…”

“Tony Stark. We know.” She sounded altogether unimpressed. Ned, on the other hand, was wearing the ridiculous expression of awe that appeared any time Peter talked about Mr. Stark or the Avengers. He was still waiting for the day his best friend would get used to him having a relationship with a billionaire superhero. Of course, when put like that, he recognized that it did sound a little crazy.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you guys.” He shoveled more lunch into his mouth. 

“I’m surprised your aunt’s still letting you do the internship. Didn’t you say she hates Stark?” 

“She doesn’t hate him,” Peter said with his mouth full. “Distrusts him, maybe.” 

“And him letting you get hit by a car helped with that?” 

“M.J.,” he moaned, wishing she’d just drop it. The truth was that May hadn’t been at all thrilled about Peter getting hurt under Mr. Stark’s watch. Given that she hadn’t been informed about her nephew’s “accident” until he was already mostly healed, Peter didn’t understand why May was so angry. It’s not like she could have expected his mentor to control traffic. He was just glad he’d been able to talk her into letting him regularly visit the compound, though he had been strictly banned from all foreseeable trips. 

“Are you saying Peter shouldn’t continue the internship?” Ned said, drawing some of the heat away from his friend. “It’s only the opportunity of a lifetime!” 

“I’m not saying that at all. I think it’s great that Peter’s brain is getting a workout once in a while with all that fancy technology junk. It’s just…” She hesitated, chewing on her lip. 

“What?” Peter asked. 

“You’re not yourself,” she finally blurted. “You’ve always been Peter-secretive-disappearing-for-no-reason-Parker, but ever since you went to Korea you’ve been...I don’t know. Quiet? More jumpy and distracted than usual? And don’t even get me started on the way you look.” 

Peter dropped his pizza crust back onto his tray and sat up straighter. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” 

M.J. turned slightly pink and struggled to backtrack. “Nothing. That came out wrong. You just seem so tired all the time, and your weight...Ned sees it too.” 

“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Ned said, holding up both hands in surrender and giving Peter an apologetic look. 

“Coward,” M.J. said. “You told me yesterday you thought he might drop in the middle of class.” 

“You know what?” Peter said before she could continue. “Why don’t the two of you keep talking until you’ve got me fully analyzed. If you ever feel like it, I’d love to hear what you come up with.” He hopped up, throwing the rest of his lunch away and ignoring the voices of his friends calling after him. He walked briskly into a hallway that was blessedly empty between classes. 

He hadn’t meant to snap at M.J. and Ned, but discovering that yet another person saw how messed up he was felt too jarring to hold in. Finding out that Ned, who knew what was going on, was discussing him behind his back had been the final shove. He dug both hands into his hair and felt his heart speed up. When he tried to calm himself down by taking a deep breath he suddenly became aware he was able to do no such thing. His chest was tight and painful, like a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around his torso. He recognized what was happening; had experienced it enough times since his capture that he logically knew he was going to be fine. Too bad that did very little to ease his panic in the moment. 

Knowing the bell would ring any minute, releasing a rush of noisy students into the halls, Peter made it his priority to get somewhere slightly more private before completely melting down. With the sound of rushing blood hammering in his ears, and the feeling of barely being able to draw in enough oxygen, it was all he could do to stumble into the closest restroom and lock himself in the stall furthest from the door. He collapsed onto the toilet seat, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands as he began to hyperventilate. 

The thoughts that barraged him in flashes were both crushing and impossible to block out. His relationships were crumbling around him. M.J. would never like him back, and it was selfish of him to want her to when he was such a basket case. Queens was in disarray. Spider Man was useless, probably dead. And Fields...Oh gosh, Fields! He was still out there. He was going to find him. Peter would be punished for his disobedience. His disloyalty. It was unavoidable. He could feel the pressure of the vibranium shackle around his wrist. It was humming. The shocks must have been working their way up to painful. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t breathe! 

“Peter!” He was caught off guard when the sudden voice of his mentor cut through the hysteria like nothing else had been able to. He raised his head, blinking around for the source, only to realize he was alone in the quiet bathroom. “Pete. Hey, bud. Down here. Check your wrist.” 

He listened to the words, half dazed, and slowly lifted his arm to look down at his watch. He was more than a bit surprised to find Mr. Stark’s face staring back at him. “Wha’...?” It came out a breathless gasp. 

“There you are. Hi. Can you take a couple breaths before we chat?” 

“I...I...I…” He panted between stutters, still feeling like Fields was breathing down the back of his neck. Unsafe. 

“Stop,” his mentor said, firmly enough to make him go silent. “You’re okay. Just try to settle down. I’m right here with you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Just breathe.” Mr. Stark inhaled deeply, waiting for Peter to mimic him before letting the breath out slowly. He repeated the action several times, holding constant eye contact as he did so. Peter knew exactly what the man was doing. Mr. Stark had, unfortunately, walked him through enough panic attacks to know what brought him out of one. It was embarrassing to need the help, but Peter didn’t have the will or energy to complain. Especially not when the pressure around his chest gradually began to lessen. A few minutes passed before he tried to speak again. 

“I’m okay now. Thanks.” 

“Are you sure? That was a doozy.” 

“Yeah.” He let out one more heavy exhale, rubbing his eyes and wondering how long this particular attack had lasted. Either the bell hadn’t rung yet, or he had somehow completely missed the change in classes and inevitably crowded bathroom. A foggy part of his mind told him it was option two. 

“Did something happen?” Mr. Stark’s tone was easy enough, but there was definite unease in the brown eyes. 

“Not really. Nothing crazy anyway. But how...how are you on my wrist?” He stammered through the question that had been bothering him, causing Mr. Stark flash a forced smile. 

“You really think an S.I. watch can’t handle a video call?” 

“But I didn’t answer a call.” 

“I forced it through, kid. Let’s just agree that’s the inventor’s privilege. I wouldn’t have had to if you’d responded to any of the dozen messages I sent first.” 

“Oh.” That’s all he managed, realizing with some distress that his traumatized brain had interpreted the vibrating of his watch as the electrical shocks from HYDRA’s bracelets. Jeez he was a wreck. 

“Oh? That’s it?” 

“I didn’t feel it,” he lied, knowing full well that his mentor wouldn’t believe him. 

He gave a hum of disbelief, but kindly moved on. “Want me to come get you?” 

“No! I mean, thanks, but no. I’m...I’m good here.” 

“That’s real convincing.” 

“I’m serious.” Peter cleared his throat and stood up from the toilet seat. “I actually think I’m late for class.” 

“Is this you trying to hang up on me?” 

“Uh, maybe. I’m at school!” he quickly defended at the look that earned him. 

“You are at school. Freaking out in a toilet stall to the point where I was about to call the front office.” 

“Please never do that!” he gasped. Because how mortifying would that have been?

“I wouldn’t.” He dragged a hand over his face, looking stressed. “I really wish you didn’t have to deal with this stuff.” 

“Me too.” 

“Were you serious about going back to class?” 

“Yep.” 

“And you really don’t want me to spring you? You’re not just worried about being an inconvenience or whatever crap it is you believe?” The man knew him well. 

“I’m good here. I only have a few periods left, and then I’m spending the evening with May.” Until she went to work, but he didn’t feel compelled to add that part. 

“Since I doubt it would be legal for me to put on a suit and drag you out of there against your will, I guess I have to take your word for it. But you call me if you change your mind. We clear on that?” 

“We’re clear.” 

“And I’m seeing you tomorrow?” 

“The second class is out.” 

“I’ll count the minutes. Now go learn something.” 

Mr. Stark’s face disappeared as he ended the call before Peter could respond. He was used to the abrupt endings of their conversations, knowing his mentor only did it because Peter despised stumbling over clunky goodbyes. It was just one more way the man looked out for his needs. It felt like Peter was never going to stop having bad days, but it helped to know he had someone in his corner who was fighting to make them better. His relationship with Mr. Stark was one of the only things keeping him afloat, and he wouldn’t have traded that for anything. 


End file.
